The Best Kept Secrets
by RandomFics0
Summary: In the Bionicle world, the city of Atero Nui stands tall after the great defeat of Makuta Teridax. But now dark forces are at work and as tensions between the two merging civilisations rise, something conspires to destroy all that the heroes have worked f
1. Life

Chapter 1: Life

Siril marched the lonely wastelands, scanning the barren ground for distant prey. The Skrall paused and held his armoured hand over his eyes, shading himself from an aggressive sun. Something was moving behind the rocks. And he could tell it wasn't an unsuspecting Sand Fox.

Cautiously, he took a step forward and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. There. A figure shifted slightly, ducking down lower behind the rocky formations. Whatever it was, it clearly did not want to be discovered.

_Too late for that_, Siril mused. He tensed himself, pulling his sword from its leather sheath and readying his shield at his side. Steadily placing one foot in front of the other, he shifted steadily closer.

It was then that the emerald armoured figure burst from its hiding spot and charged towards Siril, a wicked looking blade steady in front of it.

It all occurred too quickly for Siril to register. At first the attacker struck out at his left side, so the Skrall instinctively raised his shield. With lightning fast speed, so his eyes could barely keep up, the blade clashed against the shield just as a foot lashed against Siril's shins.

The Skrall hit the ground hard, his blade sliding out of his reach. Slowly, he looked up, blinking the dust from his eyes. The attacker stood above him, silhouetted by the sun behind him. Squinting, Siril managed to discern a shape and recognised the species. He was one of the newcomers, a Vortixx, if he remembered correctly.

"Nothing personal, you know," the assassin smirked, readying his blade above Siril's mid-section, "it's all just good business."

And with that, the Vortixx plunged down his sword into the Skrall's stomach, the metal armour cracking audibly. A scream ripped from his lips, as scarlet mixed with dull brown beneath his twisted body.

And then the Skrall went limp, a final breath seeping from his lifeless body.

With a sigh, the Vortixx placed one foot onto his victim's chest and pushed down as he tore the blade out of the corpse. The once-shining metal was now stained a dark red.

"Ugh, that's the trouble with natives around here. They just leave a mess instead of going quickly," the assassin grumbled, pulling out a cloth from an armour compartment, to wipe his sword clean, before pausing and muttering irritably, "maybe now the _queen of a Piraka_might keep her word and free me…"

"I wouldn't count on it. You need to finish the job first."

With a yelp, the Vortixx turned and crashed to the ground in horror as he saw Siril's corpse gently drag itself back to its feet. He stared, his eyes bulging out of their sockets as he watched the freshly torn hole in the middle of his victim's body start to twist and shift, flesh beginning to knit itself back together in a horrific dance. Within seconds, the wound had healed itself, the torn armour remaining as the only reminder of the Vortixx's attack.

"H-how did you…"

"Me? Believe me, I wish I knew," he walked over to his blade, keeping his eyes locked on his attacker as he bent down, "I assume it's a gift…Or a curse. I suppose either way it doesn't matter. But...I guess you could say that it means I'm immortal," he began to walk forward, the stunned Vortixx in front of him desperately trying to crawl away, "you on the other hand, my friend…are not."

With that, Siril raised his blade above his head and brought it down on the cowering Vortixx. There was a sickening crack, followed by a squelch, then silence as the would-be assassin slumped down on the dirt.

_The fourth this week._Siril thought to himself. _No coincidence, I guess. Somebody wants me dead, and fast._

He thought back on the previous encounters, trying to piece together a theory out of what little evidence his attempted-killers had provided. So far, they had all confirmed their contractor – or at least one of them – to be female, which barely narrowed it down. He could assume them to have arrived from the other universe, but there was little evidence to suggest that either. So far, his assassination attempts had been carried out by a Skakdi, an Agori, a Toa and now a Vortixx.

Siril also considered the quality of the assassins. They were all amateurs, with perhaps the exception of the latest attack, and they all displayed little subtlety. Whatever the case, these were not trained, professional assassins. They seemed more like they were picked up randomly from off of the streets. But what had the Vortixx just said?

_"Maybe now the queen of a Piraka might keep her word and free me…"_

By the tone of voice, Siril deduced the phrase "Queen of a Piraka" was a curse, but still logged it just in case it should prove useful. However, the idea that the Vortixx desired freedom intrigued him.

He frowned, his brow pushing against itself as his stomach began to moan for attention. First Siril acquired this mysterious power and now someone is trying desperately hard to make sure he stays dead. This was not going to be easy.

The hooded figure gently began to ascend the stone steps, footsteps clanking in the empty air. He sniffed, the long-forgotten scent of age and power mingling together before reaching his nostrils underneath his helmet.

The stranger outstretched his left arm and glided his hand against the rock wall. The tips of his armoured fingers brushed the ancient symbols adorning the tunnels, a language long since forgotten, the last remnants of a race now gone from living memory.

Shadows danced on the wall behind the figure, cast by the torch light. In the distance, the figure could hear the scuttling of terrified rodents, unfamiliar with intruders breaking into their homes. But the cloaked figure carried on, as if unaware, with just one destination in mind, propelled onwards by a fierce determination for redemption.

And at last he had arrived. Climbing the final step, the figure emerged into an enormous cavern, littered with enormous stalactites, dangling over the massive stalagmites, like the jaws of some vicious beast.

And there, in the middle, stood the being's prize. A wicked grin slashed across his ebony helmet, and he lowered his hood marching forward. His red eyes fixed themselves upon the centrepiece, a glimmering, purple blade streaked with whispers of black, embedded within the chest of a pile of rusting armour, which had long since lost its colour, surrendering it to rust. Three crimson rubies, embedded within the hilt of the sword, in a triangular formation shimmered in the blazing torchlight.

He stretched out a lime green hand and coiled it around the hilt. The being stamped his foot down on the armour, causing it to shatter into thousands of empty pieces, whilst heaving upwards at the same time, with a deep grunt. The blade swung free for the first time in centuries, held high in the air.

The figure grinned menacingly, already his plans flittering through his mind. Now, the fabled Kazyshian sword was in his grasp, he was promised certain victory in any battle. As if responding to his thoughts, the blade shimmered, and vibrated gently as if quivering with excitement at the blood it would now draw.

_They'll see_, the being thought, _Now they'll regret shunning me. Calling me weak. I will return to my people. And they. Will. See!_

With that, Tuma turned and marched down the steps once more.


	2. Atero Nui

Chapter 2: Atero Nui

The gleaming new city of Atero Nui buzzed with fresh excitement in the evening sun. The sky was dyed a brilliant red, streaked with grey clouds, whilst underneath Agori and Matoran mingled together, forming a thick crowd, with Toa and Glatorian sprinkled here and there amongst them.

It was rare to see the two races mixing so contentedly, recent events withering their blooming relationship. Debates and feuds sparked in merely the first few days, souring any chances for co-existence. Several of the natives of Bara Magna were hostile, viewing the newcomers as mere automatons and blaming them for the widespread destruction their Makuta Teridax had wrought. The residents of the Mata Nui robot were distrustful of the natives, as several months of slavery would result in.

Further rivalry developed during the construction of the city. The Po-Matoran gradually became controlling perfectionists towards the less skilled Agori, who protested against the harsh working conditions, yet refused to allow the city to be built without their participation. They viewed the city as a symbol of their union, and anything else to be an attempt at domination over them.

Conditions worsened when an elderly Glatorian known as Harmaisis viciously attacked an unwitting Vortixx , in a fit of discriminatory rage, blinding her in one eye. During confrontation, Harmaisis vowed he would refuse to ever live with what he described as artificial life, and with a large group of like-minded individuals, he stormed away to live far in the desert.

Now when the atmosphere was heavy enough to suffocate the two races, moods appeared to lighten when the city of Atero Nui was finally completed, named in honour of the once great fallen city in Bara Magna, and in respect to Mata Nui, the saviour of every living thing on the planet.

And so, for the first time, the market district was filled to bursting point as traders and merchants set up shop, verbally clashing with each other in an attempt to win over the nearest buyer, their words sharper than any sword. And yet in this roar of battle, two voices echoed louder than any other.

"Roll up, roll up, we've got fresh weapons here, fresh out of the oven and ready to sink into your nearest foe!"

"We've got everything for the sadistic freak inside you. We've got swords, spears, scythes, bows, daggers, pots, pans, and even a rock for the adventurous sorts."

Gresh waded through the thick crowd of shoppers, navigating his way towards the source of the noise. As expected, an audience had gathered to gaze at the two merchants who stood proudly on a stage, on which was perched a stall covered in an assortment of all kinds of vicious looking weapons. Next to them stood an incredibly odd duo, both of whom almost appeared to be surrounded in an aura of mischievousness.

"Xavor, please. I really don't believe our beloved audience appreciate your cruel words," one of the two said to the other, a wicked grin slashing across his features.

"Neither do I imagine they appreciate your hideous face, my dear Zhorya," the other retorted.

Their armour and facial features made them instantly recognisable as natives of the now abandoned island of Xia. Gresh noted that they were both male, which was definitely surprising, given how even in the new world of Spherus Magna, the females still remained dominant in Vortixx society and only an incredibly small percentage decided to release their servants. The two were incredibly similar, both black and green in armour and with hauntingly similar facial features. Perhaps, their only discernible features was that the one who was referred to as Zhorya was slightly taller, with deep blue eyes, whilst Xavor was shorter had two striking red orbs.

Gresh finished analysing them before eventually stepping forward and gently easing his way through the crowd stood at the front of the stage, looking up at the two. He puffed out his chest and took a deep breath, trying to muster some confidence. The jungle Glatorian may have fought in wars, but public speaking still made him feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry, but could I interrupt you for a second?" he forced himself to say.

The two paused and snapped their heads in the Glatorian's direction. With grins as comforting as a Talon Snake, they took a step towards him.

"I see we have a very eager customer here," Xavor announced.

"I wonder what's put you in such a hurry. Who will you be offing tonight then?"

Gresh cleared his throat, thankful for his helmet, as he could feel the blood rushing to his face as all eyes set on him.

"I'd like to see your permit please," he said.

The two merchants eyes widened, the grins fading from their faces. Zhorya licked his lips nervously before saying, "Our what?"

"Your permit. You can't trade here without one. Especially not weapons."

The duo seemed taken aback for a split second, before they shared a swift glance and turned back, fresh grins stretching across their faces, "Well my my, such stern rules. I've never heard of one of these fabled perm-hits, have you Xavor?"

"Never before, my good Zhorya. Please, tell us what great quest we must embark on to find this noble artefact."

"Or just point us in the right direction and we'll get someone to do it for us."

"Look", the jade armoured Glatorian sighed, "If you don't have one, clear off. Come back next week and sort one out with Raanu."

"Or…", Zhorya declared dramatically, holding his arm out to Gresh and looking out to his audience, "Or you let us stay now. And we shall tell thee a tale."

"Go. Now," Gresh growled, his hand resting threateningly on one of his blades.

"Very well, very well. We'll go. We suppose you didn't want to hear the rumours of Tuma rebuilding his army anyway."

The crowd around them hushed, the chatter that hummed in the background beginning to fade away. At this statement, heads began to turn to towards the stage.

The two Vortixx grinned maliciously at each other, smiling in the same way some foul beast teases its unfortunate prey. They turned to their audience, then back to Gresh.

"We're leaving the option open," Xavor chuckled toothily, as Zhorya walked slowly towards the stall, half-heartedly packing away their wares.

Gresh struggled with himself, trying to force himself to walk away. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth in frustration, his curiosity starting to get the better of him. If he were older and wiser, he would know to drop the subject and walk away, but as he was, rumours intrigued him. Tales were common these days, the slightest movement causing an avalanche of tales and warnings. But was there never truth to these? All rumours had to start somewhere.

"What are you on about?" A nervous Agori in ebony armour yelled.

"The Skrall are disbanded! Tuma's gone! They're lying!" Another villager roared, jabbing a finger in the Vortixx's direction.

Clearly loving being the centre of attention, the duo made a show of waving to the crowd and egging them on.

"Oh, we tell no lies. But so sorry, we're not allowed to stay. Maybe next time, in a week or so." Xavor jeered, shooting a glare at Gresh.

"Of course, there's one way you could make us speak." Zhorya yelled over the noise, indicating the Glatorian at the front.

Gresh shrank at the pressure building up on top of him, the weight of hundreds of eyes bearing over him. He felt himself get smaller, the rush of shouts and demands overwhelming him. The anxiety only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to break him.

"Alright," he yelled, his eyes clamped shut. The roar of voices faded slightly, "Alright, fine, I'll…I'll see what I can do. Stay. Just, go on, tell us whatever it is you know."

Just when it seemed impossible, the grins on the Vortixx's faces widened further still. Xavor shot a wide smile at Gresh, saying, "We knew you'd see it our way," before turning back to the crowd.

"Well, seeing as you so politely allowed us to stay," Zhorya announced to nobody in particular, "We'll keep our end of the bargain."

"Tuma's looking for something, known in Skrall legend as the Kazyshian sword," Xavor declared, "And if he finds it…Well, hide in your tin cities, folks, because all of Karzahni will be let loose on you."

"And with the sword, Tuma's honour is restored. The Skrall will follow him like hungry pets."

"And all of you lot have defeated them, shamed their army. Twice for some. If the Skrall unite again, they're coming back to you with a vengeance."

Nobody was speaking anymore. The once bustling district was now still, each of the many numerous inhabitants holding their breath, like trees waiting for the breeze. The silence felt like it lasted eons, before a loud slapping noise, of metal and against metal pierced it. And again. And again.

The crowd turned inwards, looking towards the centre until they found the source of the noise. A red and orange armoured Glatorian stepped forward, gently clapping his hands in a mock applause.

"Lovely story, gentlemen, very entertaining," Ackar said, none of the enthusiasm showing on his face, "I'll compliment you on the imagination. One problem. I can't see a shred of truth in there. I've never heard of a 'Kazyshian sword' and neither has anyone else here."

"You're not meant to have," Xavor growled, "It's Skrall legend, Elder. The clue is in the title."

"There is no evidence," Ackar snapped, his voice growing steadily sterner, which was beginning to make some of the villagers around him quiver, "That anything is occurring with the Skrall. I have assigned several of our best warriors to keep track of the more dangerous outlaws. So if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you stopped spreading panic and worry and returned to your miserable job."

The last few syllables were practically a hiss, which made Gresh's spine quake. Ever since Ackar had been made one of Atero Nui's Elder's his temper had grown shorter and his patience was exceedingly thin. It made the young Glatorian wonder if his age was truly starting to catch up on him.

As for the two Vortixx, they stood in stunned silence, glaring viciously at the one who had dared challenge them. For a second, it looked like Xavor was about to say something, and Gresh noticed his arm flit into a compartment in his armour, where he seemed to pull out the corner of what appeared to be parchment, before thinking better of it and hiding it away, again.

"Oh, and one last thing," Ackar said, stepping up on the stage and frostily walking past the two merchants. He approached the rack of deadly looking weapons and picked up a particularly nasty looked spiked blade, clearly the kind for torturing the unfortunate receiver. "How much is this?"

A vile grin darted across Zhorya's face as he said, "Not as noble as we would have liked to have believed, are you? Now, that's a very rare weapon, wielded by a very charming Skakdi Warlord."

"He saw himself as undefeatable," Xavor nodded pensively, "We enjoy correcting the mistakes of others."

"So, I'd call that a very fine choice. If you're willing to part with a fairly hefty portion of cash. Assuming you're willing to use the traditional Matoran system until you get your little currency solved, we'd estimate a rough 10,000 widgets," Zhorya summed up, while stretching out his palm.

Ackar looked from the two Vortixx to the blade in his hand, then back again. He seemed to be making a decision, until with lightning fast speed, he whipped the sword downward on its side, sending it crashing down onto his knee, where it snapped with a painfully loud crack.

"It's counterfeit," the Elder said smugly, tossing the broken edges to the feet of the stunned pair, "I just thought I'd let your audience see what they're buying. In case you forget to mention, of course."

And with that, the Glatorian stepped down off of the stage and walked through the laughing and jeering crowd, not sparing Gresh a single glance, leaving his former comrade feeling curiously alone in a sea of villagers.


	3. First Blood

The door exploded outwards as Ackar burst forward, barely contained anger seething from his tense form. In front of him, the other Elders of Atero Nui were gathered, eyes wide at his rude intrusion. They were Tarix, Raanu, Turaga Vakama, Toa Norik and Hydraxon. Next to them stood their assistant, a Steltian known as Thantox, who reacted with a start at the loud crash of the fuming Glatorian, and was now on the floor gathering a pile of dropped stone tablets.

The enormous metal room surrounded him, lined with shelves filled with scrolls and tablets, records and histories from both societies. They were as neatly arranged as possible, but here and there a tablet had been clumsily stacked and fallen, crushing whatever was unlucky enough to be underneath. Besides from the other six inhabitants, the room was empty and every step the Glatorian took echoed noisily around him.

Hydraxon raised himself from his stone seat to confront his livid partner, "Ackar, this is highly innapropria-"

"Shut it." Ackar responded shortly. He met Hydraxon's glare, before turning to Turaga Vakama, "Xavor and Zhorya. Are those two names you've ever heard of?"

The aged Turaga sat awhile in thought, contemplating deeply, "If ever I heard of them before, that was a long time ago. I'm afraid I can't help you."

"What about you?" Ackar turned sharply towards Norik.

"They ring a bell," Norik sighed, "Not a strong one. But something. I'm not sure I may have heard of them somewhere in Stelt once."

At the mention of his homeland, the black and blue armoured Steltian raised his head and looked around. His pupils dilated as he noticed everyone was staring at him and he licked his lips nervously, "I…I might have heard of them. Are they…two Vortixx?"

Ackar marched forward to face the kneeling assistant. "Where?" he demanded, "Who are they?"

Thantox looked to the ground, a subtle anxiety holding him, "Well, I mean I don't really know them…I've heard of them…Sort of. It's just they were sort of regulars in Stelt. Used to frequent the inns. I mean, I never spoke to them, I just knew they were there. They were sort of loud and they had a lot of friends…Well, I wouldn't say friends, they fought a lot. But, well, I guess there were people they spoke to."

"And can I ask what significance this has to anything?" Raanu interjected, "They sound vaguely unpleasant, but I don't see how this is relevant to anything."

"They know." Ackar barked, "They know about Tuma. How? We vowed to keep this secret and I don't distrust a single one of you. So where did they get that information?"

This caught the city's Elder's off-guard. The news that Tuma was trying to rebuild his army was horrifying enough, that they vowed to keep it secret from the population in order to prevent more mistrust and hatred. But now, there were two complete strangers, spreading rumours with possibly malicious intent.

"We need to monitor them." Tarix decided, "I don't want to, but we don't have a choice."

"What is this, the fiftieth group we're tracking? We can't build a society like this, Tarix." Raanu sighed, holding his head in his hand.

Vakama paused for a moment, "It would be unwise of us to send yet another of our people to watch them. I needn't remind you how many of our agents have failed to return, and I'm reluctant to encourage that."

"So our option is cowardice," Ackar fumed, "Do you even realise what they're threatening? The social unrest and tension this could cause. We don't need a threat of war hanging over Atero Nui when it's on civilians are ready to slit each other's throats."

"Be that as it may, Ackar, the Turaga raises a point," Norik said calmly, "We can assume some of our agents are dead and I don't see why we have to add to this list. We can't keep sacrificing others purely because we don't trust others."

"Then I'll do it," the crimson Glatorian decided, "I can hold my own in a fight, if it ever comes to it."

"No!" Hydraxon protested, "Your place is here with us, Ackar. You would shirk your responsibilities at the hint of a slight bit of unrest?"

"This is not a slight bit of unrest, Hydraxon!" Ackar shouted, "This is dangerous! If they know about Tuma, they could know about anything else. And I want to know where they found this information from. So try to stop me if you have to, but you'll just be unsuccessful."

Hydraxon leapt from his chair and raced towards Ackar. For a second it looked as though the two were about to brawl, before Hydraxon caught himself and stopped in his tracks. The two glared at each other, like two wolves ready to tear the throats out of one another, before they both turned away, Hydraxon returning to his seat and Ackar storming out again in the same manner he had entered.

The silence was heavy as a mountain in the next few seconds, not a single one willing to disturb the atmosphere and instead opting to stare at the table in front of them, until Thantox bravely coughed into his fist and muttered, "So…About the currency?"

The beautiful landscape would forever be ingrained in Tuma's mind. It had been a day since he stepped out of the ancient cavern, leaving the world of those who came before behind in pursuit of a new life, and a perfect new opportunity for redemption. His days mindless wandering had led him from the ancient desert into the brand new gleaming forest, raised from the very dirt by the immense powers of Mata Nui.

The moonlight danced through the treetops, bathing his path in a gorgeous silver gleam. The trees were evenly spaced, leaving a clear path ahead of him with only a few mildly bothersome branches in his way. The calls of several different animals, whether indigenous creatures, or the immigrating Rahi, resonated around him in a gentle song, calming his nerves, as a cool breeze carried itself over to him and gently massaged him. And down by his feet quivered a terrified Metus.

It was a truly beautiful scene.

Tuma had been ambling through the scenery when he saw a white figure dart, in the distance. Out of sheer curiosity, the Skrall had kept an eye on the swift moving runner, keeping just far behind enough to stay out of sight, but to hear whatever it is the stranger was mumbling about. Something about a glowing monstrosity fighting a golden God. Whatever the maddened ramblings of this panicked figure, it meant nothing as soon as Tuma realised just who it was.

A wolfish grin passed under the warriors scratched and dented helmet as he realised it was his darling traitor, the one who had allowed his fall to occur all that time ago. Alone and lost. Tuma had begun to move steadily faster, until he was practically bursting into a run, weaving through the trees, hoping to outrun his prey and him off. Eventually, he overtook him and finally leapt from his hiding spot.

His old ally had frozen with fear when he witnessed the great Elite Skrall emerge from the trees, and a glance at the glowing sword now strapped to Tuma's back had assaulted his mind like no other weapon, causing him to sink to his knees, whilst trembling.

"Hello, Metus," Tuma crooned, his voice now soft with a lack of usage. He waited patiently for the stammering Agori to say something before stepping forward and lashing his foot forward, connecting painfully with his former ally's jaw, sending him sprawling across the forest floor in a hilariously comical fashion. "You never were good at showing respect for your superiors. I said, hello, Metus."

Metus sat up, rubbing his throbbing chin and trying desperately hard to avoid looking at his attacker. "Tuma…I…I didn't expect to see you again."

"And neither did I expect to see you, friend," Tuma growled, his words dripping with hostility. He took a step forward, which sent the Agori scrambling backwards, "Why are you scared? It's as though you did something to betray me…"

"B-Betray you? Never!" Stammered Metus, "I'd never…never betray you…Leader!"

With a yell of fury, Tuma charged forward and wrapped his fist around the Agori's neck. With a painful yank, he pulled Metus up to his helmet, so they could stare eye to eye.

"You had planned all of this," he snarled, "You wanted that golden freak show to defeat me. You wanted me to be humiliated, just so you could take it all from me. And you made me lose EVERYTHING! I EVER! LIVED FOR!"

"That's…that's a bit extreme, don't you agree?" Metus gulped, "I could never, never try to stop Mata Nui from defeating you."

"You didn't have to stop him. You just didn't have to start him." Tuma was clenching his fist so tightly, his captive was writhing for breath, "If you WEREN'T trying to destroy me, if you'd LISTENED to me, you would have kept out of the way. But you ANTAGONISED him! You attacked his friends and for that I suffered!"

"I-I did to!" Metus choked, gasping for breath underneath the huge metal fist, "I…Lost…Everything…Too…We're…Not…Different."

"DON'T COMPARE YOURSELF TO ME, SNAKE!" Tuma threw Metus from his grasp, sending him flying into a tree. He breathed heavily, before composing himself and returning his attention to his captive, "But the question is, what now…?"

Metus' eyes bulged as he climbed to his feet, "Please, Tuma, I can help you. You want your respect back, I can get it."

"I don't need you for that, Metus, I never did. And I definitely won't, now that I have this." From it's scabbard, Tuma withdrew the glowing sword, lowering it down from his back.

"Is that the…?"

"So you recognise it, then" Tuma grinned, although not with the slightest hint of humour. This was more the grin in a curved blade as it sinks into the flesh of its victim, "The Kazyshian blade. A weapon from the ancients, destined to lead its wielder to victory."

"So…So, you will be waging a war. Against the Agori, right?"

"There's nobody else to worth fighting. Yet."

"Then we can fight them together! We've both been shamed by them and we deserve our revenge!"

Strangely, the Kazyshian blade seemed to glimmer brighter than before, momentarily. It vibrated momentarily in Tuma's hand and a wave of anger swept through him, "Together? You will not be a part of this, traitor."

"No! Please, Tuma, I can help you! I can…I can use my skills. I can sneak back into society and I can help you again!"

"They know what you are, Metus. They know you're a filthy, pathetic liar and they will treat you as such. You have no use to me, or the Skrall army any more, rat."

Metus collapsed to his knees, "No, I have contacts. You need me!"

"No, I don't. Nobody does" Tuma said, coldly, a look of horror crossing the Agori's face. The Kazyshian blade stirred again, momentarily, met by a fresh surge of aggression, "But I guess one thing you said was right. We do deserve our revenge."

The Agori began to back away as he saw Tuma raise his blade high above his head, before gently slowing down and stopping. Tuma emotionlessly studied his victim and his countenance which, as he threw his blade forward, changed from fear to an almost serene expression, as he closed his eyes and wordlessly stood completely still, even as the sword penetrated his armour, and blood seeped from the wound. There were no final words or curses, the Agori merely opened his eyes weakly and stared at his killer, and the Skrall could almost swear seeing a faint smile seep across the Agori's face.

Withdrawing the sword he looked down at it, preparing himself to have to clean it off, but was shocked instead to see it gleaming, as if brand new, not a single stain on it. The black veins still streaked up the purple metal like snakes, almost sparkling in its ethereal glow. Weirdly, it seemed to be glowing slightly brighter than beforehand.

A moment of pity passed through Tuma's mind as he looked down at his adversary. He looked strangely at peace and, if it weren't for the huge hole in his chest, may have been sleeping. But he wasn't. He was dead. Quite dead in fact, Tuma was sure.

But the sympathy faded as quickly as it arrived, replaced now by a confidence and a new steadfast determination to prove himself. He had shamed himself with his defeat that short while ago, but now with the Kazyshian blade, it was all behind him. And proudly, he stepped over the body of the one who had taken it all from him once, moving onwards, now singlehandedly declaring war on all of Spherus Magna. The only thing that mattered to him now was who would fight for him, and who else would die by his blade.


	4. Queen of the Nest

Atero Nui was always a beautiful concept. Two very different residents of two very different universes coming together to live in harmony. They would build the city together and it would be together that they maintain it. The idea was that the two species would pull together and crime would be but a forgotten memory in the eyes of the denizens, who would clearly want peace after the numerous wars they fought in.

Unfortunately, that , like a lot of things, was just something that sounded right on paper. However, what they didn't account for is that some old habits die hard. Smugglers and thieves, assassins and murderers, they all joined the city seeing fresh potential for mischief and profit. And those that didn't find it left to one of the outer cities around the planet, where they would swiftly be assigned a mission that led them back to Atero Nui.

A city free of crime would be a nice idea, but like a plague, it spread once more through Atero Nui, just as it had done in the old universe of Mata Nui and just as it had done in Spherus Magna beforehand.

Ackar accepted he probably should do something about it. This wasn't the ideal city he ever had in mind, once the issue of Bara Magna was fixed. But then, why should he bother? He was getting old and, even though it was painful to admit it, less able in battle. His actions in the war against the Skrall were noble and courageous, but they'd taken a lot out of him. Now he was weaker, he was beginning to slow down and take in the situation. And he could see that crime was unavoidable, and no matter how hard he fought, it could never be taken down.

So, wearily, he decided that instead of trying to destroy it, the best he could do was to remedy its effects. But secretly, he could feel a darker reason possess his heart. Years and years ago he would have crushed any sign of villainy like an insect, lest it harm any innocent before he could prevent it. But now, with his weaker and aged body, he could see the potential for good in allowing criminal activity to thrive in the darkest depths of Atero Nui. Especially with contacts where one needs them.

And so it was with a feel of heavy shame and the weight of eons and eons of history collapsing down on his shoulders, he walked through the darker, barren section of Atero Nui. Unlike the gleaming, glorious city centre, the outskirts were mainly crafted of wood, giving the area a far more run down and unwelcoming image.

Meekly, and hoping to avoid detection, he approached his destination, a large and foreboding tavern. On the front there was a large sign where Glatorian characters crudely spelt, "The Nest".

Taking in a deep breath, Ackar raised his fist and hammered three times on the door. He paused, waiting for three seconds, before hammering three times more. At this, a hatch in the door slithered open, to reveal the recognisably unpleasant eyes of a Skakdi leering back at him.

"We're full," the eyes said in a gravelly slur.

"I'm here to speak to Kurot. Just say to her, "Harmaisis". She'll know who I am."

The eyes looked confused for a second, before shrugging and blundering away, shutting the hatch sharply behind them. Ackar stood looking around, before he heard a soft voice yell, "What do you mean he's outside? You didn't let him in?" This was followed swiftly by the tell-tale sounds of a struggle and a low pitched yelp. Moments later, a fumbling of chains heralded the door which swung swiftly inwards, to reveal a sour faced, female Vortixx staring him in the face.

Ackar recognised her instantly. Her one eye examined him, the other hidden underneath a deep and unpleasant scar. Unfortunately for Kurot, she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had suffered a violent mood swing of Harmaisis', being regrettably on the receiving end of his knife. It had only taken a quick intervention of Ackar's that stopped him from finishing the job. And it was for this, she was eternally grateful.

Unbeknownst to Ackar, Kurot was beginning to set herself up as the heart of criminal activity throughout Spherus Magna. Once a Dark Hunter under the name of Malevolence, she quickly rose the ranks and upon finding out The Shadowed One had mysteriously disappeared, seized as much power as she possibly could. Venturing into her new planet, she had begun to build a name for herself in the Underworld, to the point where she was now almost instantly recognisable to any professional thief or assassin. Anybody who wanted respect and good pay, headed to her base of operation, The Nest.

"I said you should warn me before you turn up. That way we can avoid leaving the dregs of this place guarding the door," She growled, gesturing her head at a white Skakdi, who was lying with his eyes closed and the fragments of a chair littering around his body.

"No time. I need to speak to you, soon."

"Imagine this, eh", she grinned, turning to face the Elder. "The great elder of Atero Nui, conspiring with thieves. Now, just imagine what your old pal, Mata Nui would have thought of this."

Ackar shuddered at the thought, "He would have thought it wise to get the job done as efficiently as possible. Through any means necessary."

"Would he now…?" She led him through the crowd of Vortixx, Steltians, Agori, Skakdi and Glatorian. "I'll be honest, old age doesn't suit you. I heard you were far nobler than this back in the day."

"Needs must, Kurot," he grimaced. Frankly, he agreed with her, although he refused to say. He shuddered again as he thought of what he was doing now, the guilt weighing heavily in the bottom of his stomach. Eventually, they reached a murkily lit table in the centre, and gently lowered themselves into two of the four chairs.

"Now, what can I do for you? Ooh, wait, don't tell me," she cut him off before he had a chance to speak, "It has something to do with that little scene you caused in the market earlier. Well, if you're looking for confirmation, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't actually know anything about that myself. I've sent some of my best to go and search, but they won't be returning for a couple of days."

"I'm not concerned about Tuma," Ackar sighed, "I was hoping you could tell me where the two that I was speaking to are. I assumed that given the counterfeit weapons, they'd be one of your boys, so around here probably."

"Believe me," Kurot said, her one eye wide in a disbelieving grin, "If those two worked for me, I'd be singing it off of the top of that Mata Nui robots head. I can't tell you where they are, because they're freelancers, they go wherever they want to go, and they usually spread mayhem and discord in their wake. That could be a good sign if you needed it."

Ackar frowned. This wasn't appearing all too helpful, "Well then as you've heard of them, I trust you'll at least tell me who they are."

"Them?" She asked incredulously, followed by a cackle, "Let me tell you, you'll never truly find out who they are because you'll never get the same answer. They are merchants and thieves. They're Mercenaries and Noblemen. Anarchists and revolutionists. Divinity and disgrace. But there is one thing you'll be told time and time again, that will never change. They are not to be trusted."

"That really isn't being useful," Ackar said wearily.

"It's the best I can offer you, friend," Kurot sighed, "I can tell you they've got a history. The Shadowed One wanted their heads on a platter more than anything, next to Dume. They were unpredictable back in my universe, absolutely maniacal. Sometimes they would assist the Dark Hunters and sometimes they would claim the goods for themselves. Occasionally they just destroyed whatever it was our great leader wanted. But they never seemed to have a reason for it, they just did it."

"You wouldn't know anyone else that knows of them, would you?"

She gestured around the room, "I can safely bet at least half of the Mata Nui crowd here have had some sort of run in with them. But they're not going to tell you any more than I did. I'm sorry I couldn't have been much more help. If you need an idea of where they are, I'd recommend the nearest settlement northwards from here. My sources said they came from the south, so they're probably travelling trying to sell their wares."

Ackar opened his mouth to say something, before she interrupted him again, an intense look of seriousness burning in her eyes. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a mere murmur, "But I will warn you of this, Ackar. I think you of all citizens should have to know. They're up to something, something big. I may not know much about them, but I can tell from their behaviour what they're up to. And when they're as excited and arrogant as they are at the moment, it usually means they've got something terrible planned. Or they know something terrible is in the works. Keep an eye on your back, Elder and don't trust anybody."

"I see," Ackar raised himself from the chair. "Well, thank you anyway. What you've said has been at least a little…informative. I'm sure I can put it all to good use."

"Not at all, my friend." Kurot said, a grin suddenly bursting on her face. "But I recommend you don't try to find me over the next couple of days. It's lucky you caught me now. I've got some business out of Atero Nui for a week or two, that can't be put off. Purely professional of course, some of my men have been acting up."

Ackar decided he didn't want to find out about what she and her employees were up to, so said his thanks and turned away, more questions running through his mind than when he entered. He left The Nest and turned his back on the dark deeds that were no doubt being organised within, with his head bowed low, one particular phrase rushing through his mind repeatedly, searing into his conscience like a burning poker.

"Now, just imagine what your old pal, Mata Nui would have thought of this."


End file.
